Breakthrough
by sansone
Summary: It's Kate's birthday, but the team is working hard on a case. Follows each member of the team's reaction & the development of the case. Set in late season 2, pre-Twilight. Kibbs, though all characters are included.
1. Abby & McGee

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters. Sadly, they belong to some other people. I may have (meaning I have) referenced _Hamlet _and RENT at one point or another.

**AN: **I wrote this fic a couple of weeks ago. Since my birthday is tomorrow, I decided to post it. I'll probably have all 6 chapters up by Sunday night. Enjoy! & Reviews are wonderful to wake up to :))

* * *

She should have known better than to leave her umbrella at home. Damn NCIS and its limited parking space, which has her parked 3 blocks away from the office. Inside the dry haven of her car, Kate weighs down her options – wait for the storm to subside and ultimately be late or run against the rain current (like a salmon fish in Washington, DC) and undoubtedly ruin her outfit. Of course, this must happen on her birthday, when her hair is somewhat nice and she has spent more than 5 minutes getting dressed. Large drops of rain hit the windshield, merciless, much like blunt force trauma; each drop has its own source, a punctuated tap on the glass surface, but then it spreads inside out from its center, blurring her view. Then again, an umbrella won't exactly help when a storm is raging.

Ten minutes later, Kate is finally at her desk, glad to be the only one in the office – for now at least. She gathers and twists her soaking hair, because a 200m jog under the rain tends to do that to you.

"Looking good, Kate," Tony greets her and she can feel his gaze, scrutinizing her dripping clothing. It is sufficient to say that her blazer – and her skirt for that matter – is a couple shades darker than the teal green it used to be under _drier_ conditions. Kate all but grunts in response, head under her desk on the lookout for her Nikes. They are just for unfortunate days like today, or whenever Gibbs feels particularly grumpy and not appreciative of her choice in shoes. Her own ballet flats are a practical joke, really; she can't take two steps without making this annoying, squawking noise.

"You going on a date tonight, Kate?" Tony presses, feet propped on his desk as he looks over his flustered co-worker.

"Like I would tell you, Tony," she shoots back, tying her shoes because damn, if anyone can rock business casual and tennis shoes, it's Kate Todd. Besides, Gibbs might show up anytime now and she'd better be ready.

"Is it another one of my frat bros, Kate? Steve told me you guys broke it off –"

"Tony, this is none of your business," Kate snaps at him, full-on this time, taking a sip of her coffee, a look of surprise crossing her face at the realization that someone has bought _her_ coffee. The bitter taste kind of affirms the idea there is no such thing as free lunch, but whatever. She gulps it down, nonetheless, a frown scrunching her brow.

"Outrageous, I know, Kate. No more questions, promise," he grins at her, mistaking her expression for anger. Leaning back in his chair, he hums to himself, a very distinguishable phrase catching her ear – _outrageous, outrageous. _Before a slap renders him speechless, the skin of his neck reddening in an instant.

"Sorry, boss. I'm on it, boss."

Kate can't help but giggle at Tony's change of behavior.

"Morning, Gibbs," she laughs, but he is merely a passing vigilante. A slap, a walk by his desk to pick up a folder and he's gone.

* * *

CafPow in hand, Kate takes the elevator down to the Forensics Lab. It is not bribery (this time around). They've been working hard on a case since yesterday with little to no progress. Were it not for Abby's DNA analysis, which slowly but surely is yielding results, they would have nothing.

Once in the lab, Kate is not surprised to find Abby and McGee sitting side by side, their joint effort creating a symphony in and of itself. _Slurp tap tap tap slurp tap tap tap_

Kate calls out to them, but her voice is lost amidst their concentration and with a shake of the head, she simply replaces the empty cup with the newly filled one, finally capturing Abby's attention.

"Kate!" she exclaims, springing up to her feet and pulling her in for a tight hug. _Way too much CafPow, _McGee and Kate agree over a muted exchange of raised eyebrows.

"Happy birthday, Kate!" Abby chirps to Kate's surprise because honestly, she wasn't expecting anyone to remember that it's her birthday.

Before Kate can say anything, Abby runs off to the other end of the room, fishing something out of her black messenger bag.

"Happy birthday, Kate," McGee smiles at her, lacking Abby's vigor, yet he is sincere in his own, shy, _Probie _kind of way.

"Thanks, Tim."

Once Abby returns, Kate can make out what she's been holding in her hand: a simple, black velvet drawstring bag. In silence, Kate takes it, unsuspecting of what's inside and very eager to find out. One look is enough.

"You made me a mix tape?" Kate manages, a smile tugging at her lips. It's inconceivable how a tiny gesture like this one, can render her at a loss for words. _It just means a lot._ And you know, even on the rainiest of days, there is a possibility for joy, especially if you have a friend like Abby.

"Thank you, Abby! What's on it?"

"Oh, I'm not telling you, Kate. You just have to listen and find out for yourself," Abby retorts with a smirk, her eyebrow shooting straight up. Then another idea pops up in her mind and of all things, she urges,

"Sing McGee, come on! Happy birthday to you –"

There is no way he can say no to that – call it peer pressure if you must – so when Abby starts in a song, he joins her, a little timid at first, but with her growing cheerfulness, he, too, becomes louder. Loud enough not to hear the approaching footsteps.

"McGee!" A sharp call blown down the junior agent's neck is enough of a shock and Tim's voice catches in his throat – _the rest is silence_.

"No fun, Gibbs," Abby protests but only meets his trademark stare, successfully covering for the tiny smile no one else saw but the backside of McGee's head.

"What do you have for me, Abby?" his voice ascertains authority even in its quietness.

"Not much, Gibbs, not much," she muses, though a certain playfulness is evident in her tone. But that's just Abby. If anyone can get away with teasing Gibbs, it's her.

"Abs – " _Please, _he signs, as to avoid a verbal plea.

"I mean it, Gibbs. I need 6+ hours to finish this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to extract DNA from bone?" Abby is now pouting; even a kiss on the cheek doesn't eradicate her frown. Gibbs lingers close to her face, whispering in her ear, "You've got 4."

"Come on, Kate," he says, already heading for the exit.

"Thanks again, Abs. Let's meet up for lunch, okay?" Kate offers, aware that her word count is limited, and despite wanting to say more, she follows Gibbs out of the lab.


	2. Ducky

**Disclaimer:** The science in this chapter is not 100% accurate. Also, I'm not creepy, I promise (I took a Forensic Science class last year, that's all).

* * *

"Do you see that, Mr. Palmer? The entrance wound falls right below the supraorbital notch. The bullet penetrated the bone, without question scarring brain matter as it ricocheted around the cranium. Here, for example, it must have bounced off the petrous part of the temporal bone, widening the internal acoustic meatus in the process. Interestingly enough, the exit wound is about the same size, cracking the skull at the occipital," Ducky's soliloquy is absorbed by Jimmy, who seems enthralled by the sight of the two skulls on the autopsy table.

Two skulls, no appendicular skeletal parts, nor ribs, this is what it boils down to. Found in the backyard of a Navy lieutenant by cadaver dogs sniffing the area in relation to another case –_ highly unlikely that the remains are recent_, _could be old bones, _says State Police, but Gibbs is not buying it. Not until Abby works out the time frame through carbon dating. Since it falls under NCIS' jurisdiction and out of the agents' expertise, it is now up to Ducky to identify the remains. And it's going to be difficult.

"Tell me you have something for me, Duck," Gibbs calls out, no spare time for greetings.

"Hello, Jethro. Hello, Caitlin," Ducky manages a smile her way, taking a moment's rest. Because he needn't be urged, all circumstances considered. The bones are not going anywhere. But Gibbs is fidgety and Ducky can only stall this much before disclosing his findings.

"You were right, Jethro, it was homicide indeed."

"Anything else, Duck?"

He is impatient, Kate notices. _This is not surprising._ With no active part in the investigation process, he's become even more obsessive. Last night, he had them sifting through missing reports in the area – meaning 2 states in radius, going back fifty years (okay, she might be exaggerating). In any case, she alone looked at over a hundred reports, with only very few catching her eye, due to the victims' proximity to the burying grounds at the time of their disappearance. Then again, knowing their age/sex would provide them with another filter.

"Caitlin, I completely forgot. I'm sorry, my dear. Happy birthday!"

Kate is a little flushed, after he kisses her on the cheek, mainly because she can see Gibbs' frustrated expression out of the corner of her eye; hear his drawn-out sigh.

"Oh, Jethro, come on."

"Duck, do you have anything that will help me identify them?"

"Do you have the rest of their bodies?" A moment's pause, a staring match between ice blue eyes and … another set of blue eyes, protected by the transparency of goggles.

"Patience, Jethro. One of them is female, the other one is male. I can tell you that much. You see, determining their sex would have been much easier if we had their pelvises. But sexing the skull also yields accurate results, 90% was it?"

"Ducky—"

"Okay, the one on the right, it's male – I'm certain. Yes, it's more robust but look at the prominence of the superciliary arches and the external occipital protuberance. Add to that the vertical forehead and the fact you can feel the frontal eminence. The other one, I'm on the border about it – the occipital nuchal lines are smooth, yet the orbital edges are sharper than they typically are in females. However, the sloping forehead is decisive. I think it's a female."

"You think?"

"I know it's a female, Jethro."

Kate's been following the conversation with interest, having taken a few Forensic classes in college herself. _It's all coming back to me now_.

"Anything else, Duck? What about their age?"

"This one's tricky. The bones of the skull are not accurate age determinants. Considering that both the coronal and parietal sutures are fully closed, we are talking adolescent or older."

"But this doesn't narrow it down much, Ducky," Kate whispers, hoping to prevent a similar outburst from Gibbs.

"I know, Caitlin. But this does."

Ducky moves to the edge of the table, gloved fingers clasping around the jaw of the skull on the left, and prying it open.

"This one was a young adult, in her early twenties, I presume. The third molars are not out yet, but they are in the process of growing. As for the gentleman here, he has a full set of teeth. If you can give me dental records, I can try and match them, Jethro."

With this, Ducky steps aside, finally done with his expose, and moving on to another concern.

"I'm sorry, Caitlin, I didn't get you anything. But I'll tell you this – you are always welcome to come home for dinner. You're family, my dear, and my mother is still an excellent cook –"

He doesn't have to wait long before she hugs him tightly, affected by his words. Because the thing is, he is honest, and nothing feels better than knowing you are cared for. Knowing people would miss you if you went missing.

"Thanks, Ducky. I'll take you up on that one."

And then, once again Kate follows Gibbs out of the room, a strange tension claiming the third spot in the elevator that takes them up to the office.


	3. Abby

"Gibbs!"

Abby's lively shout disrupts the silence which has fallen over Gibbs' team. Her voice commands their attention from the get-go; it's like a magnet for their expectant stares. It's been a brutally long morning of sifting through files, discarding reports that don't match the profile – a woman in her twenties and an adult man, either a joint disappearance, or two separate events.

"What is it, Abs?" Gibbs asks, trying to hold back the urgency in his tone, but succeeding only slightly.

"The bones, Gibbs!"

"Abby?"

"You know, that State Police guy – what was his name? – he was _wrong._"

"What did you find, Abs?" Gibbs' patience is slowly running out, but he manages to retain a certain calmness, though his eyes betray a glint of frustration.

"The two skulls have been buried relatively recently, at most a year ago. They _do_ have forensic significance, Gibbs. You know how I figured this out? So I had to do this really cool thing, and then the carbon 14 concentration indicated that –"

"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs is quick to grab his coat and leave before she can finish what she's saying. It's not even a minute before the ding of the elevator announces his disappearance.

"Great job, Abby! You're the bomb." Abby recites excitedly, filling in for Gibbs' lack of enthusiasm – and for the lack of compliments.

"You really are, Abs. Want to grab lunch?" Kate asks, shutting the lid over her curiosity. By this point, she is used to her boss' sporadic ways – more or less; one minute he is here, the next he is gone, following a lead, a discovery, only he himself is privy to.

Before Abby can respond, Tony interrupts, "Sure, Kate! I'm super hungry." He is grinning at her, awaiting her outburst, but two can play this game.

"We're getting veggie burgers, Tony. You really wanna join us?" Kate challenges with a smirk.

"Ew, no!"

"_It tastes the same,"_ McGee joins the conversation and it's a total deadpan, the seriousness of his tone making his remark even more amusing to Abby and Kate.

"Doubt it," Tony mutters under his breath, already phrasing the typical order in his head – medium pepperoni, extra cheese.

"_If you close your eyes,"_ Abby giggles. "Come on, Kate. Let's go."

* * *

Even though they have plenty of time, Abby and Kate decide to go back to the Lab to eat their lunch. It has become a little tradition, all on its own – going to the deli place across the street for a _healthier_ burger, then returning to Abby's domain. Some might consider this a bit morose, eating amidst piles of evidence – bagged and tagged – and the occasional blood filled vile, but Abby feels right at home, sitting at her desk, Caf Pow in front of her ('cause healthy only goes that far). As for Kate, she is doing fine, having tentatively borrowed "McGee's" chair. Who doesn't enjoy lunch a la forensic comfort?

"What do you think happened to the rest of the bones?" Kate asks, munching on her meatless sandwich. It's not your typical conversation to have over lunch – it's kind of wrong – but Abby being Abby obliges with an answer.

"Might be buried in a different place. CSU searched the area, but came up empty-handed."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Make it more difficult to identify them?"

"Which means whoever did this didn't want us to figure out their identities. Which also means – Gibbs already knows that, and I bet he is onto something."

"Very true, Kate. The boss-man works in mysterious ways," Abby muses. _Chew. Slurp._

"Tell me about it, Abs," Kate snorts, holding back an eye roll and taking a paranoid peek behind her before she continues, "Sometimes I _seriously_ don't get this man."

"_Sometimes_? Kate! That's the whole point. It's his Gibbsyness that makes him who he is – Gibbs – you know what I mean?"

"Uh-huh," she looks down, her thoughts trailing off into the depths of another mind-boggling puzzle – Gibbs' behavior. It's not that she expected him to know it was her birthday. But, you know, _he ain't dumb_, and she's pretty sure he heard the comp science duo harmonize, plus Ducky was straightforward about it. A simple 'Happy birthday!' wouldn't have killed him.

Kate's been pretty silent for a while, which doesn't escape Abby's notice.

"Kate? Abby calls to Kate. What is it?"

"What is what?"

"What is with the hypnotized gaze and the frown? You look like McGee when he figured someone hacked into his computer."

Kate can't help but laugh, "Oh, Abs." A deep breath. "It's just that every time I think I've figured him out – " They both know who she is talking about. "—I'm proven wrong. It makes it all meaningless." _Frustrating._ _And I'm a trained profiler. Add me some lyrics, Alanis. Isn't this ironic?_

"Hey – he may be weird, but I know one thing for sure. He respects you, Kate."

"Yeah?"

"Positive. We talk about you, you know. Even when you're in the room – signing's got it perks," Abby tries to be reassuring, but her words prompt a grunt from Kate.

"Abby!"

"I got something for you, Abs!" Gibbs' voice precedes his presence.

Oh shit.


	4. Tony

"She's coming, Probie. Hit it!" Tony rumbles, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with excitement. Then calmness overrides his thrill as he takes a seat, eyes straight to the computer screen – which by the way, rarely happens, only when he's working. By the time the first jazz notes smooth down McGee's anxiety, Kate and Gibbs are by her desk, a little perplexed and very suspicious of their surroundings.

Jazz music aside, Tony is oddly still and McGee, McGee is _not_; he seems to be more invested in their reactions than his work. _See, strange._

Gibbs is torn; cue for an eye squint. He swallows the '_DiNozzo!_' trickling down his vocal box and settles for a sigh. A sigh, before heading straight to his own desk and sitting down in front of a pile of reports. Kate can't do much but follow suit.

To her growing surprise, there is a 6x3'' lime green box, set on her desk. For a moment, it doesn't even occur to her to ask Tony, add to that the satisfaction of having him guess who's left her such a gift. Yet, more and more questions demand her notice, until she finally gives in,

"Hey, Tony, do you know who left this?"

He looks up – _and oh, that look of innocence _– pencil between his index fingers as he waits a while before answering, testing her patience.

"Nope." Another moment's pause. "Perhaps you should open it, Kate."

For once DiNozzo speaks her mind, and she carefully untangles the purple ribbon, wrapped around the box. Inside, 6 macaroons – 3 lemon, 3 raspberry – elicit her smile, because she loves it. These are her favorite, in fact.

The question still stands, though. Even Gibbs seems interested, his probing glance, giving him away.

"McGee?" Kate questions once more, all in vain after seeing him shake his head.

_Lovely._ A room full of special agents, and no one knows who dunn it. Wait –

As she is about to close the box and tuck it away next to Abby's gift, she notices the black scribbling on the inside of the lid.

_Happy birthday, Kate!  
Sorry I stole your mix tape,  
Tony_

Her mix tape? _Now that explains the music_. It's her turn to look at Tony through squinted eyes, but she can't keep it up for long, a smile returning to her lips.

"Thank you, Tony. That's really sweet."

She would give him a hug, except he is already up and standing next to her, his cheek turned her way. _Oh._

"In your dreams, DiNozzo. Also, next time you steal something from me –"

"Got it, Kate. And you're welcome," Tony is quick to reply with a grin. Because they might bicker, call each other names, and basically, act like 10-year olds, but he is pretty sure she appreciates his gesture.


	5. Breakthrough

**AN: **I really like the Gibbs/Abby interactions on the show, hence, this chapter. Thanks for the reviews so far! You guys rock. Next chapter: Kibbs.

* * *

_Later in the day._

"No, not again –" Abby all but screams at her computer screen, or rather at the '_No match'_ pop-up, which is a sure threat to her sanity. Having searched most, if not all, accessible DNA databases without any success, she is on the verge of tears_._ Perhaps if she had higher clearance, she could have –

"You got news for me, Abs?" Gibbs interrupts her jumbled thoughts, but he can see it on her face – she has nothing. After replacing her Caf Pow, he lays a hand on her shoulder, having realized she needs the physical support, rather than a chiding remark, 'cause she has done enough self-scolding.

"I don't know what to do, Gibbs! I swear, I looked at every DNA database there is, CODIS, the Army Force database, Bone Marrow donors – you name it, I've searched it," Abby's words come out rushed and frustrated – an exact mirror of how she's feeling – until she finally trails off, struggling to catch her breath. She is not her usual, cheerful self, and Gibbs knows better than to give her any false words of reassurance. _You did everything you could, Abby. Don't worry about it. _Uh, no. He leaves it to his fingertips to do the comforting, smoothing away the tension in her shoulders, while he does the talking. They must have missed something, something that would help them identify the crania. Right.

"What else can you do, Abs?"

"Geez, Gibbs, I don't know," she voices her protest against her own shortcomings, pulling at her pigtails in frustration. She kind of looks like a little girl who is unable to answer her teacher's questions despite having studied a great deal.

"What can help us narrow down the search?"

"Narrow down the search? Well, if you could give me hair from the victims, I can try and match it."

"Abs, I can't go to every single mother on our list of –"

By now, Gibbs' voice is a distant thunderstorm, imminent, yet she can scarcely hear its rumble. _Ugh. She is not doing it right. Think, Abby. _With her head in her hands, fingertips pressed against her eyelids, something finally catches her ear. _Mother?_

"Gibbs!"

Just like that Abby is on her feet and pulling him in for a tight hug, and he takes it; they have a silent, mutual agreement not to question each other's ways. "You're a genius!"

"That's what they all tell me," Gibbs murmurs, a smirk on his lips, still, he doesn't hide the curiosity in his eyes. "So…?"

"So. Do you happen to know a thing or two about mtDNA, Gibbs?"

He doesn't need to say anything, one look is enough. The look also says he might cut her Caf Pow supply short if she stalls any further.

"It stands for mitochondrial DNA, Gibbs. Cool thing is it's used to establish maternal lineage."

"You think our Does are related?"

"Could be. If they were, this would narrow down the search, now wouldn't it?"

"It might just be the breakthrough that we need, yeah."

"If not, you have the right to slap my head, boss," Abby adjust her voice to make it sound like Tony, a playful smile curving her lips.

"Who says I need your permission, huh?" Gibbs raises his eyebrows, but there is certain levity to his tone. "Good work, Abs," he continues, kissing her cheek before heading out of the lab.


	6. Gibbs

**Disclaimer:**I'd like to acknowledge Tess Gerritsen - I got the idea for Gibbs' gift from her book _The Silent Girl._

**AN:** Final chapter, story now complete. Enjoy reading! If there's interest, I might write a sequel & continue with the case.

* * *

"Aaand I'm off," Tony drawls, grabbing his Armani jacket, shades in his other hand. Because it might have been raining– _pouring _– in the morning, but at 1730 the sun is shining, brighter than ever.

"Really, Tony?" Kate raises an eyebrow, but it's obvious that she's amused. It had been a fun sight – Tony counting down the minutes until the end of the work day and McGee fretting around Gibbs' desk after spilling his coffee. Naturally, the latter is now gone – _Go buy him another one, Probie, quick!_ – and the former is on the verge of leaving, too. Before that, though, he spares a reply in all his hurry.

"Got a date, Kate. I don't want to keep the girl waiting. You should try it sometime. Dating, you know."

He is lucky Gibbs is nowhere to be seen, because his escape would not be possible if that were the case. With a grin, he starts for the elevator; with that sharp _ding_, Kate is the only one left in the bullpen, for now. Gibbs wouldn't leave – he might nap on a table in Autopsy, but he would surely show up before going back to his _boat._ And Kate is better off at her desk than in her empty apartment. _Keep telling yourself that. _Abby had suggested they went to a restaurant for dinner, but it had been non-committal. Kate is sure her friend is still busy with work, drowning in soda pop and DNA manipulations. _What if Tony is right? Nah, that's an oxymoron. I _am _dating. Was. Whatever. Don't need this. Right?_

"Kate?" Gibbs' voice pulls her out of her mental ramblings.

"Mmm?" Oh shit. She should be working, not getting lost in thought, _definitely_ not purring consonants in response to her name being called. Panicking, she looks up, only to meet his set of blues, and God, she did not expect this. Gibbs seems – _worried._

"I'm on it, Gibbs, just give me –"

"Kate, you don't need to stay. You can go home," Gibbs interrupts her excuse, a warm gleam, softening his expression.

"Okay," she breathes, and she almost sounds defeated, which doesn't sit right, neither does it evade his notice.

"Are you okay, Kate?"

"Fine, Gibbs," she shoots back, low and textureless, aware that she's not fooling him in any way. It's a defense mechanism, really; one that he himself has used so many times, avoiding talking about his feelings and/or personal life. Or it is until he places a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look up at him.

"What?"

"You don't look fine, Kate."

_Oh, you don't say._ He should have just left it at this. He shouldn't have started to rub her tense muscles, _definitely_ shouldn't have dragged warm fingertips across the back of her neck. Kate, _Kate _should have kept her eyes open, instead of leaning into his touch.

_Now_ she is fine.

And that's the frustrating part. She could try and convince herself that it had been the work, the frustrating case, which simply wouldn't break, that had worn her out. Because that's easier to explain than the alternative. No, Kate Todd does not simply admit being hurt by the lack of attention, by _Gibbs' lack of attention _on her birthday.

"Got something for you, Kate," Gibbs murmurs in her ear, which makes it all the more difficult for Kate to think straight and produce a response, a _coherent _one. By the time she realizes what he has just said, he is pulling away and going to his desk. _He's got something for me?_

Not wanting to feel hopeful – after all, it could very well be work related – Kate remains at her desk, only slightly turning his way, a small token of her rising curiosity . It looks like he is pulling something out of his drawer, but when he casts a glance her way, she looks down at her closed sketchbook, repressing a chuckle. She doesn't want him to think she is impatient, even though she is, _very much._

_There._ After taking his time, her boss has finally come into full view by her side, a large cardboard box in his hands. Of course, she should have known better than to think Gibbs got her a gift. The box most likely contains a stack of files she is to examine.

"What is it?" she asks, her tone neutral, mimicking Gibbs' stone expression, which gives nothing away.

"Open it," he instructs, arms crossing over his chest as he leans against the edge of his desk. His eyes don't leave her; he wants to see her reaction.

She nods, turning her attention to the box, fingers running over the smooth surface. While she takes the lid off with an open mind, confusion clouds her thoughts upon seeing what's inside.

"You're kidding, right? You could have just told me to –" _grab my gear. _Kate doesn't get the chance to finish, too struck by his touch as Gibbs tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes betray amusement, but he keeps a straight face – only he can manage _that_ – as he offers an explanation, simple, yet sincere.

"Not going anywhere tonight, Kate. That's – it's for _you._ Might come in handy someday."

It's for her; the black Kevlar vest trapped between cardboard walls is for her, Kate, from him, Gibbs. She is at a loss for words, but not for long.

"You think I need protection, Gibbs?" she raises an eyebrow, giving him her sternest look possible. It's a dare, a faux challenge; if he takes the hint, Gibbs would head slap himself for wounding her feminist pride. Of course, in the meantime – gender roles aside – she is trying to calm down, her heart fluttering against her ribcage, because _the man got her a fuckin bulletproof vest._ There is poetry in that, somewhere.

"Nah, you already sleep with a gun, Agent Todd. That's just for winter, when you get cold," he shoots back, testing her patience once again. But to his surprise, Kate offers him a smile, and before she can consider it, she wraps her arms around him, murmuring a _thank you_ in the fabric of his shirt.

On instinct, he runs a hand down her back, and she can't help but think it's comforting and he better not be the one to break the contact.

Then his phone rings. Kate catches herself murmuring a few words in quiet protest, but they don't reach him, _thankfully._ She pulls away, eyes cast down, 'cause she'd better hide that disappointment from him, which might as well be written across her face with a sharpie.

"Gibbs," he mutters, almost threatening. Then it's down to simple phrases, nods and questions, as Kate tries to reconstruct the rest, to fill in the blanks.

"You did?" "Are you sure, Abby?" "I'm on it." "Good work, Abs." "Okay, you did a _great _job." "Go home." Then, because he is Gibbs, he hangs up and Kate wishes she had gone home like he had suggested half an hour ago. Because if she had, she wouldn't be feeling on edge right now, confused and painfully aware at the same time of all her emotions.

* * *

"So?" Kate's question follows the short silence, during which neither one of them made up their mind to speak. She has retreated back to her place, mimicking Gibbs' stance – which involves leaning casually against the edge of her desk. It's ambiguous, what she's asking, but nothing is straight-forward between them, now is it? And it's up to him to read her expectant glare, to come up with a plausible translation. Then, despite himself, Gibbs offers a low,

"Go home, Kate. It's nothing that can't wait till tomorrow."

See, _out of character_, and Kate needs to call him out on that if she wants to retain any semblance of normalcy to the situation.

"Gibbs! Do we have something?"

He bites his lip because he should have known. It's Kate he is talking to, after all. Dedicated to the job and annoyingly stubborn. _Oh, the irony. _

"Abby ran some more DNA tests - turns out our victims shared the same mother."

"That's great, Gibbs! I mean, you know – Uh, this would narrow down the search. I think I saw one or two cases –"

"Already have them," Gibbs murmurs, turning his back to her in the search for said files among the somewhat scattered piles of documents on his desk.

Sure he has them. No need to tell anyone about it, either. It's ridiculous how easily her eyes – like a paintbrush – follow a path: from the curve of his neck to his broad shoulders, down the length of his spine, lingering just a little longer at that tiny segment of exposed skin below the hemline of his shirt. She shouldn't be doing this, more so she shouldn't be thinking about how it would feel to run her fingers down that same path, creating a tactile sketch –

"Found them. A missing report was filed for siblings Melanie and Jack Ortega in September of last year. As of this January, Carol and David Schmitt are also missing."

He doesn't look up while he's reading off of the report, much to Kate's relief. She needs to focus, right, and breathe, _in and out, seven eleven. _Oh my God enough.

"Let's go, Gibbs. Let's go talk to the families."

Her voice is firm; it's not a suggestion and from where he's standing, it actually sounds like an order. To punctuate her point, she puts his 'gift' away and heads straight for the elevator. Gibbs follows her.

In the scant space of the elevator, his touch is even more startling, as he takes her forearm in a loose hold, to catch her attention. Little does he know is he has it by default. Because _maybe _she stepped over the line, taking charge, but _it's just this time _and she really wanted them to _keep moving before she did something incredibly stupid – Calm down, Kate._

"Don't get used to this."

Oh. Fuck.

"What?" innocence seeps through her question.

"Me buying you coffee."


End file.
